Boo!
by donnaann55
Summary: Kurt's in N.Y. He's living his dream. He's landed a role in an off-Broadway play, and he can finally afford an appartment without roommates! He's on his own, or is he?
1. Chapter 1

**Boo!**

**Chapter 1: Home, Sweet Home.**

"Kurt Hummel?"

"Speaking"

"Mr. Hummel, this is Dale Andrews from Richard Zanders office. Please hold for Mr. Zanders."

Kurt stopped breathing. His knuckles froze around the Blackberry at his ear. This was the call, this was it!

"Kurt, congratulations, you're our Cole Porter!"

Shock sent Kurt's brain on vacation. Richard's voice echoed in his empty skull.

"Kurt?"

"You heard me sing, right?" Kurt clapped his hand over his own mouth. Oh, God! He hadn't really said that, had he?

Richard's laugh boomed through the cell phone. "Believe me, Kurt, Porter didn't exactly sound like Johnny Cash!" Richard continued before Kurt could even think of a reply. "Rehearsals start in two weeks. Dale will give you all the details. See you at the theatre."

Kurt hit the end call icon, his thumb on automatic pilot, his mind like cotton candy. Thank God, Dale was sending him a confirmation email, because he hadn't heard a word she said! He crossed the littered living room he shared with two other hopeful actors. He didn't make his customary grimace as he steered his way around running shoes, and backpacks, and empty beer cans. He didn't even see them. He stared out the window, and saw nothing. He felt nothing. He should be excited. He had wanted this moment for forever. He had worked and studied and auditioned at a thousand casting calls over the last year. A solid year of "Sorry, you're not what we're looking for", and now, finally, Richard Zanders was giving him a chance.

Kurt laid his forehead against the window pane, and closed his eyes. His heart was beating so hard, he could feel it throbbing in his ears. Richard's words were playing on repeat in his head. "Kurt, congratulations, you're our Cole Porter. Kurt, congratulations, you're our… Kurt, congratulations, you're..."

He opened his eyes and focused on the phone still clutched tight in his hand. He scrolled through his contact list. He hit the call icon and paced impatiently as the phone rang.

"Hummel Tires"

"Dad."

"Kurt, buddy, how are you?"

"Dad" Tears bubbled up in Kurt's eyes, and his throat closed up.

"Kurt, what's wrong? Kurt?"

"Dad, I got it." Kurt whispered the words.

"What?"

"I got the lead!" Kurt screamed into the phone.

Standing in his garage in Lima, Ohio, Burt Hummel yelled in response. "YESSSS!"

Kurt laughed and wiped his eyes. Now, he could feel. Now, it was real.

* * *

Three weeks later, walking to rehearsal, Kurt watched as a man smoking a cigar and wearing an undershirt that had seen better days, taped a sign to the front window of a brownstone.

ROOM TO LET

Kurt stopped dead. He climbed the front steps of the brownstone, and coughed discretely. "Excuse me."

Mr. Stained T-shirt looked Kurt over, and grunted. "Actor?"

Kurt nodded.

The super puffed on his cigar. "Got a job?"

"Yes." Kurt tried for a charming smile.

"O.K. You can take a look." The man waved Kurt through the front door. "Just one room; and it's small."

* * *

The super unlocked the door, and stood aside for Kurt to enter. The man definitely had a talent for understatement. The room was not just small; it was practically microscopic, even by Manhattan standards. The kitchen was closet size and he could barely turn around in the washroom. "What's the rent?"

"Look, kid, I'll give you a break. I'll take $200 off my regular rate."

Since this man in no way resembled Santa Claus, Kurt thought it prudent to ask, "Why?"

The super shrugged. "This room has had three tenants in the last five months. I'm tired of the aggravation."

Kurt looked around the empty room again. "What's the problem?"

"People are morons; that's the problem." The super took a drag on his cigar. "The last two actually tried to tell me that the room was haunted."

Kurt smirked. "Ghosts?"

The super grinned at the disbelief in Kurt's voice. "What did I tell you? Idiots!"

Kurt scanned the room; it didn't take long. It was probably the smallest room Kurt had been in, ever. And now it was home. He smiled at the other man. "Let's hope the ghost likes actors."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: That's Odd**

"The rehearsals are draining. I'm having trouble getting into Porter's head. I've done hours of research on the guy, and there just isn't much about him personally. I can't get a picture of Cole Porter, the man."

"What does your director say?" Rachel was touring with a production of Les Mis. She was lost in the mid-west somewhere and Kurt really wanted her back in New York.

Kurt forced himself to stop biting his nails as he paced his tiny apartment. "He keeps telling me to go with my gut." Kurt groaned.

Rachel laughed. "How are you doing with the musical numbers?"

"The songs are great, I love them. The dances are challenging but the choreographer is a sweetheart; he's really helpful, and so creative."

"Helpful, huh, and cute?"

"Not that kind of helpful, Rachel. He's like 45 and he's been in a relationship for years."

"Anyone interesting?"

"Stop worrying about my love life." Kurt noticed that his iPod, sitting in its dock, was on. Odd, he was sure he had turned it off before he left, this morning. "So, how's it going in the wild, wild west?"

"Not so wild. Thank god I'm at the theatre every night. Some of these places have never even heard of a bagel!"

Kurt laughed. "You've actually done it. You've found the back of beyond!"

"Hah! We'll see how funny you think it is next year when you're on tour."

"Rache, I'm in a tiny little off-Broadway theatre. We'll be lucky If 100 people see the show. We're not going on tour."

"It's not impossible, Kurt. Off-Broadway plays make it to Broadway all the time."

"Yeah, cause the theatre going public is just clamoring for songs from the 30's."

Rachel was scandalized at Kurt's cavalier attitude towards the man that was arguably **the** quintessential musical theatre genius. "It's Cole Porter, Kurt. Cole Porter is eternal!"

"When is your tour over? I'd like you to see my play before it closes." Kurt sounded like he was joking but he had recurring nightmares about the show closing on opening night.

"Kurt Hummel, if you don't stop talking like that I'm going to call Finn and tell him to drive to New York and smack you for me."

"Oooo! Shaking in my boots, here, Rache." Kurt lay down on the couch that was really his pull-out bed. "You're right though, negative thinking is counterproductive. From now on, I'm all about the positive."

* * *

Kurt climbed the stairs to his apartment, one slow step at a time. He moved like an old man. He was exhausted. Rehearsal had been brutal today. He was only in two dance numbers but learning them was killing him. He leaned against the door, digging in his pocket for his house key. Voices filtered through the door, coming from inside the apartment. He straightened quickly, and turned the key in the lock. He could see at a glance that the place was empty. The chattering was coming from his small flat screen TV.

Kurt locked the door behind him. Crossing the room, he picked up the remote and turned the TV off. He must have been really out of it this morning, if he left the apartment with the TV on. Kurt stripped off his dance sweats and tossed them into an already full laundry bag. He had to get to the Laundromat this weekend; he was running out of clothes. That was the only real complaint Kurt had with his pocket sized apartment; there was just no room for a washer/dryer.

In the shower, standing under the stream of steaming water, Kurt tried to work the soreness out of his leg muscles. Dior! What he wouldn't give for a hot bath, or even better, a hot tub! Toweling off, Kurt consoled himself with the thought that, at least, he had the shower all to himself. Sharing one washroom with two roommates, in his last apartment, had not been fun! Emerging from the bathroom, towel around his waist, he found his TV on again.

Kurt stared at the screen, retracing his movements since he came home. Yes, he had definitely turned the TV off. Kurt picked up the remote and turned it off, again. Shrugging, he crossed the room, and opened the fridge. There must be something wrong with the wiring.

* * *

"So, tell me! Are you loving it? Is it as great as you thought it would be?"

"Cedes, I can't even tell you how great it is! Better, better than anything we imagined in high school."

"I'm so happy for you Kurt, you deserve this."

"What about you? Sure you don't want to change your mind?"

Five years ago, right after high school, Mercedes had gone to California to become a singing sensation. That dream had proved to be an illusion, but his BFF had found a new dream. She used music and her incredible voice to help autistic children communicate. "Nah, white boy, I'm good. Kurt, it's amazing…" Mercedes sighed. Kurt could hear the satisfaction in her voice. "When it works, when their eyes light up and they connect…I still get shivers up my spine. Of course, there are bad days, sometimes nothing works, and then I pray and hope and keep trying. I'm never bored Kurt, and I know I'm making a difference with my life. I'm happy."

"O.K. spill, who's the new guy?"

"I said I'm happy with my work, Kurt."

"Yeah, I heard you. Where did you meet him? Is he a social worker, teacher?"

"I don't want to say anything. It's too soon."

"Cedes, this is me you're talking to. I've told you about guys I've known for like 5 minutes."

Mercedes gave in; it's not like she wasn't dying to tell Kurt all about it anyway. "Kurt, he's wonderful. He's tall and broad, with soft curly hair, and kind eyes. He has a …" Kurt wandered into the closet kitchen as he listened to Mercedes. The radio was on; not a surprise! Kurt turned it off, and paced back to the couch. Fifteen minutes later, knowing more about Mercedes' dream man than he needed to, Kurt slid his phone back into his pocket and, in what had become a game with him, checked the radio. Yep, it was on again. He really should talk to the super about the wiring in this room. Something was way off!

* * *

Five weeks into rehearsals, three weeks till opening night, and it was finally starting to come together. Kurt let himself into his apartment, and automatically crossed the room, to turn the TV off. He'd been too busy, to talk to the super about the wonky wiring. He sank into the couch, and sorted through the mail. He tossed the junk mail, put the bills aside and laughed at a dorky post card from Finn. Actual writing was way too old school, but Kurt and Finn had been sending silly post cards back and forth since Kurt left Lima. Most of the time, they didn't even write anything on the back of them, but it had become a ritual that Kurt cherished.

He made tea, added honey for his throat, and hit play on his iPod. An instrumental recording of Cole Porter's "You Do Something To Me" flowed into the room. Kurt sang the lyrics, concentrating on his diction. The director wanted the words crisp, sharp.

You do something to me.

Something that simply mystifies me.

Tell me, why should it me

You have the pow'r to hypnotize me

Let me live 'neath your spell.

Do do that voodoo that you do so well.

"You're a little tall to be Porter, kid."

Kurt shrieked, and turned to find a man standing about four feet away, leaning in the archway to his closet kitchen. "Who the hell are you?"

The stranger dipped his head, and waved his hand in front of his chest. "Joshua Sinclair, but you can call me Josh."

The man looked about 25, black hair, blue eyes. He wore a rumpled brown suit, skinny tie, and held a cigarette between his fingers.

Kurt walked around the couch, closer to this interloper. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I live here."

"What?"

"Ok, I don't exactly live here. I haunt here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Casper**

"What?"

Josh sighed. "I didn't sneak in here. I didn't break in. I'm always here. I'm always here because I can't leave."

Kurt stood still, about two feet away from the other man. "What do you mean, you're always here? I've never seen you before."

Josh sighed again. "Look, this is going to take a while. Mind if I sit down?"

Kurt never got a chance to say Yes or No. The man was gone. What the hell? Kurt turned and found the other man getting comfortable on the couch, crossing his legs, shifting against the pillows. "Shit!"

Josh looked at him. "You'd better sit down too. You don't look so good."

Kurt walked back around to the front of the couch, and sat, never taking his eyes off the other man. "How did you do that?"

Josh dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know, man. I've been here for years, and I still haven't figured it out."

Kurt swallowed and spoke gently. It was probably best not to upset the crazy. "You've been here for years?"

"Yeah, man. One minute I was on stage at the Imperial Theatre, dancing in rehearsal. I slipped on a hair ribbon that someone left on stage, and fell into the pit. The next thing I knew, I was here. I've been here ever since."

"And how long ago was that? When did you fall off the stage?"

Josh looked at Kurt; direct eye contact. "August, 1957."

Kurt said nothing. The silence lasted so long that he could feel the air vibrate with it. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"Yeah, me neither."

* * *

Kurt reached out. Josh sat still, waiting for Kurt to touch him. Kurt's hand sank through Josh's forearm, and Josh flickered. "Fuck!" Kurt drew his hand back quickly, holding it to his chest as if it was burnt.

Josh said nothing, waiting. Kurt wasn't the first person he'd shared this little dance with. He knew it wasn't over yet.

Kurt reached out again, this time just two fingers on Josh's shoulder. Josh flickered. His image shorted out, like a TV image when the cable's messed up, and the pixels jump in and out. Some of Josh appeared solid, but the area around Kurt's touch, blinked on and off, like some bizarre Christmas tree light. Kurt retracted his hand, rubbing his fingers together. "How?"

"No fucking clue, man."

"1957?"

Josh nodded. "Yeah."

"If you've always been here, why am I just seeing you now?" Kurt sounded like an attorney for the prosecution.

Josh put the cigarette to his lips, and took a drag. Kurt's eyes widened. He was watching a man smoke, or a man who thought he was smoking, but there was no smoky exhale, no sickening tobacco stench. This was the fucking Twilight Zone!

"I've seen every tenant who ever lived here, but most of them never saw me."

Kurt's lips dipped sideways in a sarcastic smirk. "Why am I so privileged?"

Josh ignored Kurt's tone; the kid was handling this pretty well, he was allowed a little bit of snit. "I think it's because you acknowledged me."

Kurt's eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking…?"

Josh waved his protest off. "That little game you played. I turned things on, you turned them off."

"Turning off the TV when I came home was not acknowledging you."

"No, but turning on your iPod, and then waiting to see if I turned it off or switching radio stations to see if I would change them back, that was acknowledging me."

Kurt stood up, his voice rising. "I didn't know it was you! I thought the wiring was weird. I was just playing a game, seeing how screwed up it was."

Josh took a last drag on his cigarette, and crushed the butt under his foot. "Now, you know."

Kurt opened his mouth to yell at the other man for ruining his carpet, but the carpet was fine. The cigarette, and the man smoking it, weren't real. Kurt fell back into the couch, his legs no longer steady beneath him.

"You're a ghost." The words came out in a horrified whisper. Kurt leaned over, his head on his knees. "I'm talking to a freaking ghost!"

"Hey, man, chill out."

Kurt's head snapped up. "If you died in '57, why do you talk like a 70's sit com?"

Josh shrugged. "I watched a lot of boob tube in the 70's." He leaned closer to Kurt. "You O.K.? Still freaked out?"

"I think you could say that. Yes, I'm freaked out." Kurt leaned back on the couch, eyes closed. "I just wanted a place of my own, was that asking too much?"

"Hey, man, I'm not a bad roommate. I won't eat your food, I don't make a mess, and I won't bring dates back here."

Kurt opened his eyes, his head still resting against the back of the couch. "You're always here?"

"Yes"

"You always see me, even when I don't see you?"

Josh scratched his head. "Well, I don't know about that, man. Now that you've seen me, you'll probably always see me. I think."

Kurt sat up. "Uh-huh. Well, just in case, find somewhere else to be when I'm in the shower."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Dinner Date **

Kurt glanced at his watch and shut down his laptop. He checked his hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Going somewhere?" Josh sat on the couch, blowing non-existent smoke rings.

"Yes." Kurt grinned. "Want to come?"

"Dude, that's harsh." Josh was experimenting with a more contemporary vocabulary. He raised an eyebrow when he took in Kurt's tailored jacket, black skinny's, and black leather dress shoes shined to mirrored perfection. "Big date?"

"No, just…" A knock on the door halted Kurt mid-sentence. He waved Josh away as he crossed to the door. "Get lost."

"No way, man. I want to see who rates the real clothes."

Kurt frowned at the inquisitive specter. Josh just grinned at him.

Kurt opened the door, and was pulled into a hug. "Princess!" Hands pounded his back. "Dude, it's been like forever."

Kurt stepped back and gave a small shriek. "Oh, my god, Noah! You're all grown up." He closed the door behind Puck. "Just look at you."

Five years, and Puck was almost unrecognizable. The Mohawk and muscle shirts were a thing of the past. His pool business had taken off in California, he now spent more time behind a desk then he did around a pool. He loosened his tie, and pulled it off. "Still hate these things." He folded the tie and tucked it into the pocket of his suit. "Sorry, I was in meetings all day, I was going to go back to the hotel and change, but I …"

"What are you apologizing for? You look fantastic!" Kurt waved his hand, encompassing Puck's new look. "I know just where to take you, to show you off."

Puck smirked. "And there's going to be a lot of women at this place, right?"

Kurt grinned. "Nope."

Puck laughed. "Next time I'm in charge of the entertainment."

* * *

Kurt paid the driver, stepped out of the taxi, and smothered a yawn behind his hand. Dior! He hadn't been out this late in…well…since the last time he had dinner with Puck. Dragging himself up the stairs to his apartment, Kurt shook his head. Puck really hadn't changed all that much; he still drank and partied like the bad-ass he had been in high school. At 2:30 in the morning, Kurt had admitted defeat. He left Puck to the tender attentions of two young men who were hoping Puck would get drunk enough to forget that they were male. Kurt hugged him and told him to call the next time he was in town.

Kurt locked his door, shrugged out of his jacket, and tossed the cushions off the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, as he pulled his bed out with the other. He sat on the bed to unlace his shoes.

"Hey, watch it!"

Kurt pulled his shoes off, and stood to unzip his pants. Josh sat on his bed, rubbing his legs to stop the flickering. Apparently, Kurt had sat on him. "You watch it. It's my bed."

Josh made himself comfortable on Kurt's bed, legs stretched out, ever present cigarette in one hand. "Who's the hottie?"

"None of your business. Go haunt someone else." Kurt stepped into sleep pants, and ignored the resident ghost. He hung up his jacket and pants, and threw the rest of his clothes in the laundry bag. He brushed his teeth, turned out the light and crawled into bed.

"Boyfriend?"

Kurt yawned. "No"

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"No"

"Really? You mean you didn't tap that?"

Kurt huffed and sat up. "No, I didn't tap that! I've known Puck forever. We've been friends since we were 17." Kurt pulled the blankets over his shoulder, and tried to get comfortable again. "And, he's straight."

"Ahhh, too bad."

Kurt snorted. "And that makes a difference to you, how? You can't fuck him anyway; your parts are not exactly in working condition."

"Bitch!"

Kurt laughed, and thumped his pillow. "Night, Casper."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: I Need a Kindle**

Kurt sat on the couch, a bowl of cereal in his hand, the newspaper spread out in front of him on the coffee table. He tried to ignore the poltergeist leaning over the back of the couch, reading the paper over his shoulder. "Remember that first time you appeared out of nowhere?"

Josh snorted. "When you screamed like a girl?"

"When I screamed like any sane person would." Kurt gave Josh a dirty look, and then pursued his original train of thought. "You said, 'You're a little tall to be Porter, kid.'"

"Yeah, so? Turn the page."

Kurt flipped the paper. "What did you mean?"

The haunt scanned the paper for details on some political sex scandal. "Well, Cole Porter was only about 5'6". Of course, he looked even shorter when he was leaning on a cane."

Kurt stopped eating, and turned sideways on the couch to see Josh. "What?"

Josh sighed. He was trying to read the paper, and Kurt was interrupting him. "After the horseback riding accident, Porter had trouble with his legs. He needed a cane. He used to joke about it."

Kurt stared. "You knew Cole Porter?"

"Yeah, sure, I was a chorus boy in Silk Stockings when it opened in '55. "

"What?"

Josh shrugged. "We weren't friends or anything, but Cole was there every day for rehearsals. So, yeah, I knew him."

"Are you freaking kidding me? You knew Cole Porter?"

"Jeeze, kid, don't have a coronary."

Kurt put his cereal bowl down. "You're going to tell me everything you know about Cole Porter."

"Sure, kid." Josh glanced at the digital clock on Kurt's microwave. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for rehearsals?"

"Shit!" Kurt dumped his bowl in the sink, and dashed into the washroom.

Josh took Kurt's place on the couch, shaking his head. The kid had to learn to lighten up.

Kurt pulled on the yoga style clothes he wore for work. Josh looked up from the paper. "Hey, kid, turn the page for me."

Kurt grabbed his phone and keys, and obligingly turned the page on his way to the door. "Why do you keep calling me kid? You're not much older than I am. You were, what, 25 when you died?"

"I was 26, but that was 55 years ago. I feel like I've been hanging around for eons. Next to you, I feel old."

Kurt stared at the other man. He couldn't even imagine what life or not-life must be like for Josh. "Well, if we don't count the half century of incorporeal reality, you're only 2 years older than me. So, stop calling me kid."

Kurt opened the door to leave. "Hey, Kurt, you want to buy a Kindle on your way home tonight?"

"What?"

"I can't turn pages, but I'm good with electronics."

"Oh, my God! This is my life! A freaking ghost wants me to go shopping for him!" Kurt slammed the door on his way out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Porter Pointers**

The director called Kurt aside after rehearsal. "Kurt, you're dancing has improved beyond any of my expectations. And, of course, your singing is note perfect."

"But?"

"You've got to put more into Cole Porter. When you're not singing or dancing, Cole is just flat."

Kurt nodded. "I know. I'm working on it. I found someone who can help me get a better feel for Cole."

"Fantastic!" Richard put his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "This whole thing revolves around you, Kurt. You're Cole Porter." He stepped back. "But no pressure, just try and get under his skin." Richard laughed. "Pun intended! Go home, get some sleep. We'll start again tomorrow."

* * *

Kurt threw a small cardboard box on the coffee table, and curled up on the couch. "Talk."

Josh read "Amazon " on the box, and grinned. He threw himself at Kurt, hugging him. Kurt couldn't return the hug; there was nothing to hold on to. Josh was a collection of sparking pixels, a static energy against Kurt's skin. Josh drew back, becoming solid again. "Oh, sorry, I forgot." He sat on the couch across from Kurt. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. You're a doll. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now, tell me about Cole Porter."

But Josh was still distracted by his present. "Kurt, I can't open it."

"Fine!" Kurt huffed and opened the box. He took out the Kindle.

Josh looked from the Kindle to Kurt. "You've got to charge it."

Kurt attached the white cable to the Kindle, and walked over to an outlet to plug it in. "How do you know about this, anyway?"

Josh shrugged. "I watch the Shopping Network."

"Great!" Kurt curled into the couch again. "Can we talk now?"

Josh sat back against the opposite arm of the couch, his legs stretched out alongside Kurt's hip, cigarette in hand. "Anything for you, doll."

"Have you been watching Cagney movies on Turner Classics again?"

"Yep. Shoot."

"Tell me everything you know about Cole Porter. Anything you can remember."

"Kay, let me think." Josh took a drag on his non-existent cigarette. "I was just another kid in the chorus. I didn't know him well. He was about 64 at the time. He was in constant pain with his leg, but he never said a word about it, and neither did anyone else. He showed up with his cane, every day, at rehearsals. He sat in the back, so he would know if the sound carried well or not. Opening night, we were all, the whole cast, invited back to his apartment at the Waldorf Towers. What a place! I've never seen anything like it; luxurious, extravagant. The man knew how to live!"

Josh took a long drag on his cigarette. "You've seen pictures of him, right?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah."

"So you know what he looked like; short, thin, not particularly good looking, at least, not on paper. But when he moved, he was graceful, elegant." Josh shrugged. "Little things, like the way he held his cigarette case, set him apart. His eyes were huge, expressive; they drew you in and held you captive. He was sophisticated, intelligent, cosmopolitan. I had never met anyone like him. I was this kid from nowhere; he seemed like someone from another planet. They said that in his younger days, in Paris and Venice, even California, he gave very wild parties; music, and drugs, and no one hid their sexual orientation."

Josh stared past Kurt's shoulder, seeing the past. "He was a gentleman of his times, always polite, correct. He could say the most suggestive things, but never in a vulgar way; just a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile on his lips. He was smart; his humour dry, often sarcastic." Josh shrugged again. "That's all I remember. Does that help?"

Kurt rubbed his forehead, and groaned. "I'm a not quite 25 year old, from Lima, Ohio. I've never been anywhere, certainly not Paris or Venice. How am I going to morph myself into an urbane, sophisticated legend?"

Josh looked Kurt over. "Well, you're taller and your colouring is lighter, but you've got the big eyes and your speaking voice is similar. I think you can pull it off. Stand up."

Kurt just looked at him.

"Come on, stand up, we're going to turn you into Cole Porter."

Kurt stood up. "Move the coffee table out of the way." Kurt pushed at the table. "Kay, stand in the middle of the room."

Kurt grumbled as he moved into position. "Bossy"

Josh pretended not to hear him. "Now, when you're singing…what are you working on?"

"I've Got You Under My Skin"

"Okay, when you're singing "I've Got You Under My Skin" think sex."

"What?"

"Most of Porter's lyrics were about love or sex. He didn't say it outright, not like they do today." Kurt looked askance at the today comment. "Hey, I listen to the Top 40 stations." Josh continued, ignoring Kurt's laugh. "Cole was all erudite gentleman on the outside, sly teenage sex fiend on the inside, or at least that's how you're going to portray him." Josh laughed. "Should be a no-brainer for you. You've got the whole innocent thing going on outside but you're keeping all the heat inside."

Kurt snorted. "Right! That's me!"

Josh glared at Kurt. The kid doubted his directorial genius. "You do have a hidden lechery, and I know that because you talk in your sleep."

Kurt's skin went to flame. "I do not!"

"You do." Josh smiled at Kurt's discomfort. "And, you say the most interesting things."

"Shut up!"

"Just sing the lyrics, and listen to what Cole is very carefully, not saying."

Kurt nodded and took a deep breath.

I've got you under my skin

I've got you deep in the heart of me

So deep in my heart, you're really a part of me

I've got you under my skin

I've tried so not to give in

I've said to myself this affair never will go so well

But why should I try to resist, when darling, I know so well

I've got you under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might

For the sake of having you near

In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night

And repeats, and repeats in my ear

Josh watched Kurt perform. When Kurt got to the words, "I've tried so not to give in", his eyes got desperate, his smile tilted, and his voice went deep and throaty. Wow! The kid could get seriously hot! Kurt hit, "But why should I try to resist", all flirty with mega eyelash play. "I'd sacrifice anything… for the sake of having you near", emerged as a dark, insistent plea. He wasn't so much singing the words, as speaking from a place of need. The song ended with, "Cause I've got you under my skin," which Kurt growled out; a man admitting and succumbing to an unexpected passion.

Josh jumped up, clapping. Kurt found it very disconcerting to see Josh's hands moving, but to hear nothing. Josh's hands were as incorporeal as he was, they couldn't make a sound. Kurt was so used to Josh that he forgot sometimes what he was, and what he wasn't.

"That's perfect! You've got it exactly."

Kurt beamed and bowed. "Thank you. Mr. Porter and I thank you very much."

"Now, just carry that same feeling with you when you're not singing. Underneath his suit and tie, Cole was a wild card, a rebel. Remember that."

Kurt nodded. "Anything else I can do to be more authentic?"

His friendly specter sat down, and looked at Kurt through eyes narrowed in concentration. "Yeah, you need a silver cigarette case. Cole Porter wouldn't be caught dead taking a cigarette out of a package like a peasant. He always carried an initialed case. I heard that his wife commissioned a new one for every Broadway opening."

Kurt sat beside Josh on the couch. "I can use the cigarettes, and the case to keep my hands busy on stage. That's a good idea."

"Just remember to hold the cigarette like a gentleman, not a dock worker. Cole was elegant, always."

Kurt put his hand out but pulled it back just in time. He didn't want to see Josh flicker. "Thank you."

"No problem. Think the Kindle is charged yet?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Dress Rehearsal**

"5 minutes. Scene 2, on stage in 5 minutes."

Kurt looked at himself in the make-up mirror, adjusted his hat to the correct angle, and left the dressing room.

A young woman, with brown hair and pretty eyes, almost ran Kurt down in the narrow hallway backstage. "Oh, shit! Sorry, Kurt."

"You O.K.?"

Cheryl tried to walk, and do up the buttons on her gloves, at the same time. Not a very successful endeavor. She stopped to fight with the gloves. "I hate these things."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, these period clothes are a real pain. This collar is killing me." He waited until she vanquished the buttons.

They walked to their places, stage right. Standing in the wings they waited for their cue. Kurt leaned down and whispered, "Nervous?"

Cheryl nodded; eyes wide with fright. "Sick."

"It's only dress rehearsal, we've still got two weeks to get it right."

Cheryl twisted her hands together, and started her deep breathing exercises.

"Cole and Linda, Scene 2." Kurt took Cheryl's hand and they entered stage right.

* * *

"That's it! You've got it. Perfect." Richard climbed out of his seat, and came down the center aisle to the stage. "Cheryl, keep doing exactly that. Don't change a thing. Kurt, can I talk to you?"

Kurt walked to the edge of the stage, and slid off it, to stand bedside Richard. The director grabbed him by the shoulders. "My god! I could kiss you!" Richard's grin stretched his face to a dangerous degree. "I will kiss you." He kissed Kurt on both cheeks, and hugged him. "What did you do? What happened between yesterday and today?"

Kurt tried to answer but Richard was too excited to let him talk. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I don't care. Whatever you did, it worked. Today you were Cole Porter." A sudden thought caused Richard's face to close up with anxiety. "You can do it again, right?"

Kurt nodded. "I think so."

Richard sighed in relief. "Good, good, perfect." He waved Kurt away. "Go get changed for the dance number."

* * *

Kurt ran the last two blocks. He was dying to tell Josh about dress rehearsal. He turned his key in the lock, and shoved the door opened. "Josh!"

"You called?" His resident phantom looked up from what he was reading. The Kindle he couldn't hold, rested on a cushion beside him.

"It worked! Richard thought it was perfect." Kurt sat on the coffee table, across from Josh. "I felt it, Josh. I was Cole Porter. I wasn't even aware of me anymore, it was all him. The words just poured out. It was amazing." Kurt took a breath. "Thank you, I couldn't have done it without you." Kurt moved his hands until they were almost touching Josh's, palms facing up.

Josh moved his hands over Kurt's, palms down, almost, almost touching. They locked eyes for a heartbeat. Josh smiled. "You're welcome."

* * *

Josh watched Kurt as the younger man slept. He could listen to music, or watch TV, if he kept the sound down low enough not to wake him. He could read, but he preferred to watch Kurt. Watching Kurt sleep had become a guilty pleasure, one of the highlights of his day. Second only, to that moment when Kurt came through the door, after his day at the theatre. Some nights, Kurt was restless, and kicked off the blankets. With the help of the LED lights from the various electronic gadgets about the room, Josh could ogle Kurt's shoulders, arms, and chest. Some nights, Kurt talked in his sleep. His friend was a very interesting man; he said things in his sleep that would make Josh's toes curl, if he had toes.

Kurt curled into his pillow, and sighed out a word. Everything that was Josh, stopped. When Josh could think again, he moved to sit beside Kurt. He watched his eyelashes, as they twitched, against his cheek. He stared at his lips, waiting, wishing, willing…

Kurt said it again; a soft, low sigh, "Josh."

Josh moved his hand. He held it just above Kurt's cheekbone. He traced a line in the air, down Kurt's neck, and over his shoulder, always almost touching. The heart he didn't have, hurt. If Josh didn't know it was impossible, he would swear that he was crying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Last Night**

Rehearsal ran late. Kurt was tired, and wired. He should go home. But he couldn't. He sat on a barstool, in a bar about three blocks from his apartment. He sipped at his beer, and his lips twisted in a small mew of distaste. He would have preferred scotch, but he had to treat his vocal cords tenderly this close to opening night… so, no scotch. Kurt wanted to go home, and tell Josh all about rehearsal. And that was part of his problem. His best friend was a ghost.

Kurt wrapped both hands around the thick glass mug, and lowered his forehead to rest on the rim of the glass. That was part of the problem, the other part, was that Kurt wanted his ghost to be more than a friend. Could this possibly get any weirder?

* * *

A hand touched his waist, a sultry voice whispered in his ear. "Hi"

Kurt lifted his head, and turned to the young man standing beside him; long chocolate hair, café-au-lait skin tone, about 20. Something about his eyes reminded Kurt of Blaine. He smiled. "Kurt"

"Cole."

"You're kidding!"

Cole shrugged. "My mother likes musicals."

Kurt grinned. "So do I." He stood, threw some cash on the bar, and held his hand out to Cole. "Coming with me?"

* * *

Kurt glanced at the man walking beside him, and decided he didn't want to wait to find out what he tasted like. Kurt grabbed Cole's arm, pulled him into the shadows, and pushed him back against a brick wall. Cole wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck, and moved into Kurt, supple, eager.

Kurt lifted his head, and smiled. Cole tasted just fine; chocolate and wine. Cole licked his lips, staring at Kurt's mouth. Kurt snaked an arm around the other man's waist, and lead him back to the sidewalk.

* * *

Kurt stood aside for Cole to enter the apartment. Josh was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Kurt nodded his head towards the washroom. He smiled at Cole. "Give me a sec."

He closed the bathroom door, and turned to find Josh sitting on the tank, his feet on the closed toilet lid. "If this was a dorm room, I'd put a tie on the doorknob."

Josh nodded. "Got ya." And he was gone.

* * *

Kurt turned off the TV, and crossed the small room to Cole. He put his hands on the other man's hips, and pulled him close. "Unless you've got a thing for making out on floors, we've got to open the couch."

Cole licked a line along Kurt's jaw, and nibbled on his ear lobe. "Bed."

They tossed the cushions on the floor, pulled the bed out, and raced each other to see who could get naked first. Cole won, because he was wearing sneakers, and Kurt had to unlace his boots. He knelt in the middle of the bed, and grinned at Kurt. "I win. What do I get?"

Kurt pushed him on to his back and crawled over him. "Me!"

Nipping and kissing his way down Cole's chest, it occurred to Kurt that Josh could be watching. That image burned across his mind, and had him hard and aching in seconds.

* * *

"Safe to come out now?"

Kurt looked up from his cereal bowl, and smiled at his friendly neigbourhood specter. "Yeah, Cole's gone."

"Cole? You're kidding. What are the odds?"

"I know. I couldn't believe it."

Josh sat on the couch beside Kurt, blowing imaginary smoke rings. "Didn't take you for a top, Kid."

Kurt choked on his cereal. He looked at Josh and shrugged. "I'm not obsessive about it, depends on my mood and who I'm with." Kurt paused, spoon suspended mid-way to his mouth. "Oh, no! No way! I am not discussing my sex life with a phantom. You don't even have a body!"

"Hey, be nice to the ghoul!" Josh lit another cigarette. "It's been awhile, I haven't had sex since 1957, but I don't think anything has changed all that much." He smirked at Kurt. "At least, not from what I saw last night."

"Great! I'm being critiqued by a dead man!"

"Your technique is good, and your stamina is impressive. I especially liked the …"

"Stop!" Kurt dumped his cereal bowl in the sink. "I'm leaving."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Frustration**

"Of course, we're coming Kurt. My son's opening night on Broadway, like I'd miss that!" Burt was bursting with pride. His smile filled the screen on Kurt's laptop.

"It's only off-Broadway, Dad."

"Kurt, I don't care if it's on the moon. You're in it, we're coming. Carole wants to know if we can get tickets on Ticketmaster?"

"Dad, don't worry about the tickets. I'll have them hold two for you and Carole."

"We're going to need more than two tickets."

"No problem, I'll get one for Finn."

"We need ten."

"Ten?"

Carole pushed Burt aside, so Kurt could see her. "Yeah, everyone from your old Glee club wants to come. Finn's renting a van, so we can all drive together."

"Really? Who's coming?"

"Will Shuster and Emma Pillsbury, Mike and Tina, Sam, Santana and Britt, and Finn, and Burt and I, of course."

"Everyone's coming? Now, I'm really nervous!"

* * *

Josh watched as Kurt Skyped with his father. He was focused on his laptop, so Josh was free to focus on him. He never let himself look at Kurt for too long or too often, at least, not when the other man was awake. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable. For the first time in almost fifty years, Josh had a friend, and he didn't want to do anything that might wreck that.

The first twenty-three years hadn't been too bad. The brownstone was a large one family home back then. It was a house that Josh knew well, when he was still alive. One of the first friends he made when he moved to New York, David Henderson, grew up in this house. Josh had always loved it. He had been to many family dinners, and parties in this house. David's family had sold the place in '52, and Josh hadn't seen it again until he fell off the stage in '57. He didn't understand why he ended up haunting this house while David, did not.

The man who bought the house from David's family was an eccentric kook who got a kick out of having a ghost about the place. The man was elderly, and they didn't have much in common, but he was someone to talk to. After he died, the house was on the market for years. The new owner broke it up into small apartments. In the 14 years since then, Josh had been alone. He zipped in and out of all the apartments but no one knew he was there.

Without a body, with no one to speak to, no one who knew he existed, Josh fought a desperate battle to remain aware. As one lonely year followed another, Josh started to lose himself. That had been terrifying! And then, there was Kurt. Kurt saw him. Kurt spoke to him. Kurt smiled at him, and laughed at his jokes. He asked his opinion, and teased him, and left the radio tuned to the Top 40 station Josh preferred. Kurt treated him like a person, and because he did, Josh felt more like a human being than he had in decades.

When Kurt wasn't home, Josh flitted through the other apartments, a daily inspection. After all these years, he felt protective of the building and its occupants. He knew that 1A had broken up with her boyfriend, and that 3C were away on a cruise. Before Kurt, watching the building's revolving soap opera, was all that kept him from seeping away into oblivion. But now, with Kurt, because of Kurt, his core was solid again. He was strong, and getting stronger every day. His affinity with all things electric was increasing. He could feel power surges in his fingers…and that was new.

The stronger he felt, the more frustrated he became. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't eat an ice cream cone, or sip a scotch. He couldn't even jerk off. Fuck! But the worst, the absolute worst thing about being whatever the hell he was…he couldn't touch Kurt. In all the years of his existence, both alive and not-alive, he had never wanted anything more than he wanted to touch Kurt Hummel.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Only In Your Dreams**

"O.K. That's all for today. Cheryl, Kurt excellent. Jeremy, watch your blocking, when you move out of position you lose your lighting." Richard waved his hands, dismissing the cast. "Same time tomorrow, everyone."

Kurt changed out of his period costume, and scrubbed off the stage make-up. On his way out, he stuck his head into Cheryl's dressing room. "Feeling better?"

"As long as I don't think about next week, I'm good."

"Yeah, let's not go there." Kurt mimed trembling in fear, and Cheryl laughed. "See you tomorrow."

Kurt stopped backstage, and watched Jeremy pace the stage, working on his blocking. Kurt whistled. "By George, I think you've got it!"

Jeremy looked up, grinning. "You think?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, looks good. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Walking home, Kurt was dissecting a tricky piece of dialogue when he felt his phone vibrate. He hit the message icon to find a text from Puck.

**When's the grand opening?**

**You mean Opening Night?**

**Whatever…when and where?**

**Orpheum Theatre, 126 2****nd**** Ave, 8 PM.**

**I'm booking plane tickets for me and Aretha. Break a leg!**

Slipping his phone into his back pocket, Kurt smiled. He was thrilled and touched that his friends were making the effort to be here for him. He was lucky to have so many people in his life. He had talked to Blaine on Skype last week. His ex was cutting a record in Nashville, but he'd be here for opening night. Almost everyone was coming, except Rachel who was on tour, and Josh. Kurt's smile dimmed and died. He really wished Josh could be there.

* * *

Kurt added marinara sauce to his pasta, and waved the plate in front of his favourite apparition. "Want some?"

Josh sniffed, and pretended indifference. "Shouldn't you be watching the carbs?"

Kurt curled into his corner of the couch, plate of pasta in his lap. "Are you kidding? With all the dancing I'm doing, I'm withering away to nothing."

As Kurt raised the plate, and took a bite, Josh's gaze zeroed in on his crotch. "You look pretty substantial to me."

Kurt knew exactly where Josh was looking. He grinned. "Thanks, Casper. I'll take that as a compliment."

Josh smirked at him. He raised a hand towards the TV, trolling for something worth watching, while Kurt finished dinner.

"I heard from Puck today. He and Mercedes are coming for opening night."

Josh stopped scanning channels, and looked at Kurt. "So, everyone will be there."

"Yeah."

Kurt stared into Josh's eyes. Not everyone would be there be, and they both knew it.

* * *

Kurt was restless tonight. Josh smiled, and moved closer. A restless Kurt meant a talkative Kurt, and Josh didn't want to miss a word. He sat near the top of the bed, his hip beside Kurt's shoulder. He rested one arm along the back of the couch, and curled over the sleeping beauty. He moved one hand over Kurt, traced his body, always just quite not touching. He didn't want to see the flickering. He didn't need any reminders of how impossible this was.

Kurt's lips opened and provocative words whispered on the air. "Now, Josh."

Josh's lips twisted in pain. He moved his hand over Kurt's face, along his jaw and up, over his temple. That's when he felt it, a small electric charge. Josh's fingers twitched in response. He moved his hand over Kurt's scalp, and felt it again, at the back of his head. Kurt was definitely dreaming, his breathing and heart rate were both up, and his eyes were moving under closed lids. This was REM sleep, and Josh knew that meant increased brain activity. Thank you, Discovery Channel!

Josh held his hand over Kurt's temple; the tiny shocks were strongest there. Brain chemistry, Josh had heard the term; but he had never expected to experience it. He could feel his own energy bursting at his fingertips. Kurt whispered Josh's name again, and need flashed across Josh's face. This was killing him. He had to do something.

Josh leaned closer and gently touched two fingers to Kurt's temple. He gasped as a spark leapt from his fingers, and sank into Kurt's skin. Josh's energy poured into Kurt, and just like that, he was in Kurt's mind, in Kurt's dream. Kurt was over him, and in him, and Josh felt it all, as if it was real. Don't wake up. Please, God, don't let him wake up!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Opening Night**

"No, no, don't come here. Go right to the theatre. Come back stage after the show. Even if the show is a flop and I turn out to be the worst actor in the history of the theatre, come back stage. I'll need the sympathy."

Blaine laughed. "And if it's a huge success and you're the next Ralph Fiennes?"

"Then come back stage and help me celebrate."

Kurt hit end call, and shoved the phone into his back pocket. He went into the washroom and splashed water on his face. He leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths to calm down.

"You O.K.?"

"Yeah." Kurt dried his face, and joined Josh on the couch. "I've got to go."

Josh nodded, lighting a cigarette. "You told everyone to go to the theatre?"

Kurt looked at Josh. "If they were here, I couldn't talk to you." Kurt moved one hand out, palm up. "I didn't want anyone else here tonight."

Josh moved his hand over Kurt's. "You will be splendiferous."

Kurt laughed. "Where did you hear that?"

His poltergeist shrugged. "No idea."

Kurt closed his hand into a fist. He watched Josh mirror his action. "I wish you could be there."

Josh tried to smile. "You'll tell me all about it when you get home."

Kurt nodded. He walked to the door. "It's going to be late, there's an after party."

"Josh nodded. "I'll be here." Kurt smiled thinly, and opened the door.

* * *

The cast, hands clasped, stood in one line, spread across the stage. They took one bow as a unit, and then took a step back, leaving Kurt alone in the spotlight. The audience whistled, and hooted. The sound of the applause was a roar in Kurt's ears. He smiled, and bowed, and stepped back into line with his cast mates. The house lights came up as the curtain went down. The second it hit the stage floor, the cast broke formation. They hugged each other, and laughed, and cried. Jeremy grabbed Cheryl, and spun her around in a circle. He hugged Kurt, all the while yelling, "That was fucking amazing!"

Richard strolled onto the stage, and the cast went silent, waiting for his assessment. "I'm pleased. I'm proud. I'm thrilled. You take my breath away. And I expect every one of you to do the same thing tomorrow night, but even better." Laughter circled the stage. "Now, go celebrate."

The path to Kurt's dressing room was clogged with cast and crew wanting to congratulate him. Hugs, backslaps, handshakes, and laughter; one long gauntlet of praise. Kurt opened his dressing room door, and couldn't breathe. His father strangled him, tears streaming down his face.

"Burt, you'll break him." Finn pushed Burt aside, and wrapped Kurt in a bear hug.

Kurt laughed and smacked Finn's shoulder. "And you won't?"

Carole squeezed around her son. "Kurt, you were wonderful. Honey, we're so proud of you." She wiped at her eyes, and Kurt hugged her. When Carole stepped aside, it became a Glee free-for-all. Hands grabbed him, and arms hugged him, and everyone talked at once. Brittany wrapped herself around Kurt, and wouldn't let go. Kurt tried to talk, but no one could hear him. Santana put two fingers in her mouth and produced a whistle so loud and shrill, it could, melt your ear drums.

"Thank you, Santana." Kurt looked around the room at his family and friends. "I don't know how to tell you, how much it means to me that you're all here." Kurt paused.

Puck called out. "There's an app for that!" Groans and laughter filled the room.

Kurt untangled himself from Brittany, and stood between Burt and Carole, an arm around each of their waists. "You're all invited to the cast party."

"Whoo! Whoo!" Finn pumped his fist in the air. "Free booze!"

* * *

Drink in hand, Puck joined Kurt and Blaine, at a corner booth. "So, Cole Porter was gay?"

Kurt smirked. "Really? And what was your first clue?"

Puck slid on to the bench seat beside Kurt. "I kinda got that idea, when you started macking on that actor in the second act."

Blaine fanned his hand in front of his face. "Seriously hot!"

Kurt smiled at Blaine. "Thank you, sweetie."

Puck grinned. "What's it like being a porn star, dude?"

"Oh, Noah." Kurt patted Puck's arm sympathetically. "If that's your idea of porn, you have to get better cable."

Blaine laughed. "Burn!"

Puck raised his hand to high five Kurt. "Nice, Hummel!" He shook his head. "I don't know why I even try. Your tongue should be registered as a dangerous weapon."

Kurt fluttered his eyelashes at Puck, his smile suggestive. "So true, dangerous in every conceivable way."

Blaine choked on his drink. Puck reached across the table, to slap his back. "Princess, your inner lecher is showing."

* * *

At 3 AM, the adrenaline high of opening night, cut out suddenly, and Kurt realized he was wiped. Most of his friends had called it quits an hour or so ago. Blaine had left with Jeremy, Puck walked out with an arm around Karen, one of the dancers. The only Glee kids left were Santana and Britt swaying to a slow jazz beat, and Mercedes talking to Sam. Kurt promised to meet them for brunch at their hotel, and walked out into the neon lit New York streets.

Kurt walked quickly, his shoes echoing on the sidewalk. Tonight had been the culmination of years of hard work, and impossible dreams. His friends and family had made it perfect. There was only one person he still had to see. Kurt started to run.

* * *

Josh took one look at Kurt's face, as he burst through the door, and knew the play had been a success. Kurt dashed across the room, and moved to hug him. Josh stepped back, avoiding Kurt's touch. Kurt stopped dead. His smile dropped off his face.

Josh reached out, hands palm up. Kurt sighed, and moved his hands to cover Josh's, as always, not quite touching.

Josh looked at Kurt, his face tender. "Tell me everything."

The two men sat facing each other on the couch, their legs stretched out towards each other. Kurt's hands flew, almost as fast as the words spilling out of his mouth. Josh listened intently, his ever present cigarette held forgotten, dangling from his fingers.

Eventually, Kurt ran out of steam. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, and traced the cushion's pattern with his finger. "I wish you could have been there."

"Me too."

Kurt sat up, drawing his legs under him. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Josh flicked his cigarette away, and swung his legs down to the floor, sitting up. He leaned close to Kurt. He traced his hands in the air, just over Kurt's hair. "If you sleep, Kurt, I can be there, in your dreams."

Kurt shook his head. "That's really sweet Josh, but that's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant." Josh's voice became insistent. "Kurt, I'm not kidding. I can really do this. Remember that dream you had last week? We were together, you were fucking me."

Kurt pulled away, his skin heating up. "How did you know that?"

"I was there. I felt it. You felt it, too, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I've been trying not to think about it."

"I don't know why it works. My energy connects with your brain chemistry somehow…fuck it! I don't know how it works, but it works. I can be with you when you dream. We can do this." Josh stood up and stared down at Kurt. "I want to do this. Do you?"

Kurt stood. "Yes."

* * *

It was even easier this time. Kurt was waiting for him in the hologram world that was his mind. In this world, thought was reality. They could touch each other; fuck each other, without any of the restraints of the physical world. No struggling with shoelaces, boots, or zippers. No need for condoms or lube. In this world, jaws never got tired, gag reflexes didn't exist, and recovery time was as fast as the next thought. It was the best sex they could imagine, because it was exactly whatever they imagined. There was, however, one major downside; they could only have this while Kurt was asleep, and Kurt couldn't sleep forever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: I Can't**

"How goes the building?" Kurt grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"1A met a guy on eHarmony, and 3C are back from their cruise. How goes the world?" Josh turned the TV off with a wave of his hand.

"The world, apparently, is coming to our show."

"The numbers are good? That's great!"

"The box office says this Saturday night's show is sold out."

"That's exciting! What does Richard say?"

"He's so crazy, he's talking Broadway." Kurt finished his water, and crossed to the miniscule washroom, to take a shower.

"But, Kurt, that's fantastic."

"It's going to take more than one sold out show to get to Broadway." Kurt's voice was muffled, as he pulled his shirt off.

Josh popped into the washroom, to watch Kurt strip. Now, that's what he called a show! "Want some company?"

Kurt laughed. "No! It freaks me out when I reach for the soap and my hand goes through you, and you start flickering like a demented Christmas tree."

* * *

"How does it feel to be back in the land of yellow taxis and subway crazies?"

"So, so good to be home! No more suitcases, my own bed, heaven." Rachel flung herself backwards onto said bed. "I hear there's this little off-Broadway show that's been getting some attention."

Kurt snorted. "Where did you hear that? From my father?"

"No, smart ass, from Finn, and Mercedes, and Puck."

"Don't tell me Puck's been following my show."

"He's not following your show. He's following Karen's show, and you just happen to be in it."

Kurt laughed. "O.K. that I believe."

* * *

The show was a success. There was serious talk of making the leap to Broadway. Richard was being courted by theatres looking to house his play. Everyone was excited. Kurt loved his work, all of it; the stage, the audience, the feeling of family that develops from working with the same actors night after night. He loved creating magic, a spell that held the audience for a few hours and sent them home smiling.

Work wasn't the problem. Josh was the problem, or rather, his feelings for Josh. His favourite poltergeist was smart, and funny, and caring… but, he wasn't real. Kurt couldn't snuggle up against him, when they watched TV at night. Josh couldn't walk through Central Park with him, or have brunch with his friends. Josh couldn't meet his friends, ever. He couldn't tell anyone about Josh, they'd think he was crazy. How had he, who had been out since sophomore year in high school, ended up with a relationship that he had to keep in the closet?

* * *

Josh knew Kurt wasn't happy. This, what they had, wasn't good for Kurt. When he wasn't working, he was with Josh. Which was great, but it meant Kurt never left the apartment, because Josh couldn't.

"You haven't seen Rachel in a while?"

Kurt dried a dish, and put it away. "Yeah, I should call her."

"Her theatre is dark on Monday night too, isn't it? Why don't you guys do dinner or something?"

Kurt twisted the dish towel in his hands. "But, what will you do?"

Josh smiled. "I'll go mess with the electronics in 2B. I've been neglecting my haunting duties lately." Josh came to stand beside Kurt; he held his hand out, palm up. "Don't worry about me. Go complain about bad lighting and costume changes with Rachel."

* * *

Kurt just couldn't do this anymore. He loved Josh, he really did, but he needed a life outside of his apartment. He wanted all the normal things; to be able to go to a movie with Josh, to go out to dinner, to go to a dance club or a bar. Dior! To go anywhere!

Kurt wanted Josh to meet Rachel, and Puck. He wanted to take him home to meet his father, and Carole. He wanted to look into the audience one night and see Josh, front row center.

This mind-sex thing they did while Kurt slept, it was great, no question. Small explosions that detonated along his spine, erupting through his skin, making his brain shake. But Kurt wanted to hold Josh, to feel the weight of his body, and the heat of his skin. He even missed the messy. He definitely missed the cuddling after. Kurt didn't like waking up in bed alone. Even when Josh was there, he wasn't really there.

He couldn't do this anymore.

* * *

"I have to leave."

"I know."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: A Whole New Me**

Kurt had been right to leave. Josh knew that. He understood it. He accepted it. But it was killing him. Josh was an empty, echoing nothing.

He saw the new guy move in. Someone else was walking around in Kurt's place. The pain twisted deeper. Now, Kurt was truly gone.

* * *

Kurt slept on Cheryl's couch for a few weeks. His new apartment was quite a bit bigger, a 4th floor walk-up, with an actual bathtub.

Kurt had been right to end it with Josh. He knew that. But it was killing him. He wandered his apartment every night; empty, hurting. The silence drove him out on to the streets, walking for hours. He was a regular now, at the small Irish bar two blocks from his apartment. He stopped in every night. He only allowed himself one scotch, most nights he didn't even finish it. He just couldn't face going home to a place without Josh.

* * *

The new guy was nothing like Kurt. He spent his nights watching TSN, correcting papers or grading tests. He taught history at a public high school.

Josh didn't mess with this guy's TV, or radio. He had zero interest in this guy, and even if he did, he still wouldn't try to make himself visible. Not again. Not ever.

* * *

"You O.K., Kurt? You've been pretty quiet since you've come home." Burt sat on the couch, beside Kurt, and turned the TV off. Burt was no Dr. Phil, but when he found his son sitting in front of a football game and not even noticing, he knew something was seriously wrong. "You worried about the new show?"

Kurt's eyes lit with excitement. "No, I think it's going to be even better. I thought they might recast the lead for the Broadway opening, but Richard told me before I left New York that the job was mine."

"So, what's the problem?"

Kurt tried to deflect Burt's concern. He manufactured a laugh. He was, after all, an actor. "Who said there's a problem?"

Apparently, he wasn't good enough to convince his father. "Kurt?"

Kurt's shoulders slumped, as he sagged into the couch. "There was someone."

"And?"

"It didn't work."

Burt pulled Kurt into a hug. "I'm sorry, buddy." He rubbed Kurt's back the way he used to when he had nightmares as a kid. Burt wondered why he was only hearing about this guy after the fact.

"You would have liked him, Dad. He was …" Kurt blinked suddenly watery eyes. "He was nice. We just couldn't make it work."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. You're going to be fine, buddy. You're going to be fine."

* * *

Josh heard the sirens, but sirens were always blaring in New York. He didn't pay any attention until he saw the EMS guys burst through the brownstone's front door. It was the new guy. He lay on the floor twitching, his cell phone still in his hand. The two EMS men worked as one unit, efficient, fast. But not fast enough, the guy on the floor stopped twitching, and Josh knew he was gone. The med-techs didn't seem to know that though. They kept working on the man, setting up their equipment, attaching leads to the guy's chest. "Clear." Nothing. The techs looked at each other, one of them nodded, and the other positioned the paddles again. "Clear."

Josh didn't even think about it. He just moved. He put a hand under each of the paddles. He followed the next charge….Wham. The guy on the floor jumped like a marionette. The monitor started bleeping. The techs sat back, and waited. The guy groaned and opened his eyes.

Two faces hovered over him. "Take it easy. Don't try to move."

Move? Are you fucking kidding me? Josh hadn't been inside a body in over 55 years; he could barely keep his eyes open. He blinked in response. He watched as one of the techs put all the equipment away. He felt them lift him onto the stretcher.

* * *

He woke to an annoying, insistent voice in his ear. "Kevin. Kevin, wake up. Kevin!" Josh was pissed. "Kevin, answer the woman, so she'll shut the fuck up."

The woman laughed. "I see you're awake, Mr. Lichtner."

Josh opened his eyes, to the laughing woman standing beside his bed. Shit! That must be the new guy's name, Kevin Lichtner. She was talking to him. He was Kevin Lichtner. Holy fuck! It had actually worked. Kurt! Oh, god, Kurt!

The woman patted Josh's shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Kevin." She was kind enough to ignore the tears that slid down the side of Josh's face, and dripped onto his pillow.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Hi**

Josh ransacked Kevin's apartment. He read everything; from bills to junk mail. He even read the impersonal birthday wishes from stores that had Kevin's email address. He found a neatly printed copy of all Kevin's passwords, taped to the back of his closet door. Thank God for the anally retentive!

After hours of snooping, Josh had a fairly clear picture of Kevin Lichtner; a 28 year old, single, history teacher from Naco, Arizona. No kids, no siblings. A search on Lichtner in Naco produced death notices for Kevin's parents. He'd been in New York less than 6 months. As far as Josh could tell from his phone bill, he didn't have anyone in Naco that would miss him; no long distance calls. Bad for Kevin, good for Josh. It seemed as if fate had arranged Kevin's life so that Josh could take it over without a problem.

* * *

First thing the next morning, Josh shook hands with Kevin's principal, and promptly quit.

Second thing, Josh walked into the nearest convenience store and bought a package of cigarettes. Walking home, it became very clear to Josh that watching TV did not, in fact, prepare him for life in 2012. He found himself stopping every few blocks, ostensibly to look around. Actually, he stopped to take deep breaths and calm down. Josh hadn't been outside in almost 50 years. The sheer number of people crowding the sidewalk made him anxious.

There were no-smoking signs everywhere … and what the fuck was it with tattoos? Almost everyone under 40 had a tattoo on their neck, or arm, or crawling up their leg… and the kids with pink hair, and blue hair, and green hair… girls and guys both. Josh shook his head. It was so not 1957 anymore.

* * *

Josh smiled as he opened his package of cigarettes. He flopped down on Kevin's couch, and prepared to enjoy his first taste of smoke in half a century. He lit up, and took a long drag… and curled up in a fit of coughing so painful he thought his lungs were going to come out through his throat. Shit! Kevin, obviously, did not indulge. There wasn't an ashtray in the apartment, of course, so Josh put out his cigarette in the kitchen sink. He stared at the package in his hand, noticing the surgeon general's warning for the first time. Maybe he would quit. All these non-smoking regulations made him feel like a criminal, and cigarettes had gotten ridiculously expensive since 1957. The deciding factor for Josh, though, the thought that made him crumple up the package of cigarettes and throw them out was Kurt. Kurt would have plenty to say, if he ever caught Josh with a real cigarette in his hand. Josh had a lot of plans for Kurt, and none of them included arguing over smoking!

* * *

Josh picked up Kevin's cell phone, now his, and thought about calling Kurt's cell. He walked to the gym, and thought about going over to Cheryl's place and asking her for Kurt's address. He thought about hanging around the Imperial Theatre, waiting for Kurt to show up for rehearsals. He thought about 20 different ways that he could see Kurt today or tomorrow…but he was too chicken to try any of them.

What if Kurt was already with someone else? What if he didn't believe him, if he thought that Kevin was a delusional whack-job? What if Kurt didn't like this body?

Kevin looked nothing like Josh had. He was shorter, and his eyes were green, not blue. And his hair! Josh cringed every time he looked in the mirror. What if Kurt didn't like red hair?

No, he couldn't just walk up to Kurt and say, "Hey, surprise!" He had to sneak up on Kurt. He had to get to know him again, in this body.

Josh worked out at the local gym religiously, every day. He took dance classes 3 nights a week. He had to get back in shape if he wanted to get back on the stage. He scoured the on-line trade magazines and journals for any news or gossip about Kurt's show. He worked the night shift at a local sports bar, so that he could go to casting calls during the day.

* * *

Kurt walked into the Imperial Theatre, grinning like a fool. This was light years away from the Orpheum! This place had an actual balcony, and real seats, and the floor was carpeted. Kurt slid into a seat, and looked around, seeing the theatre as the audience would. He drank in the box seats, the huge stage, the over-head lights, and the impressive décor.

"Can you believe this?" Jeremy sank into the seat next to Kurt. His co-star whispered, as if he was in church, awe in his voice. They sat there in silence, absorbing the hallowed atmosphere.

Jeremy turned to Kurt, excitement in every line of his body. "Broadway!" He stood and pulled Kurt up with him. He raised his head, and shouted into the echoing ceiling. "It's fucking BROADWAY!"

* * *

Rehearsals were tense, the cast was awed and nervous, and there were a lot of new people both on the stage and behind the scenes. The move to a Broadway theatre had brought the show more backers, which meant more money. There were new costumes, new sets, more musicians, and six new dancers.

Standing in the wings with Cheryl, waiting for their call, Kurt noticed one of the new dancers. You couldn't miss him; his red hair was like a beacon. He was good. As Kurt watched, the choreographer clapped his hands. "Better, that was better. Boys, do exactly what Kevin's doing. Girls, this is what I want." The male dancers gathered around the red head.

* * *

"Kurt, we've changed the choreography a bit for this number..." The choreographer indicated the three new male dancers. "... to work the new guys into the dance."

Kurt nodded, and the choreographer walked him through the new moves. This dance was an old style Broadway kaleidoscope of dancers, Kurt moving from one male dancer to the next. The dance was a representation of Cole Porter's many lovers. Trying to remember the choreographer's instructions, Kurt glided between dancers. He bent Kevin over one arm, arched over the other man. "That's it, Kurt, hold it a second longer, good." Kevin looked up at Kurt, and grinned, green eyes laughing.

Kurt returned the smile, turned Kevin out of his arms, and moved to the next dancer. Don't be an idiot. Of course, he smiled at you. He's supposed to smile at you. They're all supposed to smile at you. You're the fucking star, for Dior's sake!

* * *

Josh was shaking. Calm the fuck down. Don't be an idiot. Kurt doesn't know who the fuck you are. If you run into his dressing room, screaming that you love him, begging him to touch you again, he's going to call the cops and have you committed!

* * *

Kurt refused to allow a pair of laughing green eyes to affect his work. He continued to act like the professional he was. He treated Kevin like any other cast member. He didn't seek the other man out, but he didn't ignore him either. He was hyper aware of the red head, followed him in his peripheral vision, watched his every move. The more Kurt surreptitiously stalked Kevin, the more he noticed things about the other man that sent tiny frissons of anxiety along his spine. The way he threw his head back when he laughed, the way his smile tilted down a fraction on the right side of his mouth, the way he walked; Kurt couldn't figure out why so many of Kevin's mannerisms made his skin itch. Dior! He was losing it!

* * *

Kurt walked backstage, on his way to his dressing room. Kevin leaned against the wall in the hallway, talking to another dancer. His left arm was crossed over his torso at his waist, his right elbow rested on his left wrist, the right hand raised in the air, as if he was holding a cigarette. Kurt stumbled, and had to catch himself against the wall to keep from falling. Both dancers turned to him, concerned.

"You OK, Kurt?" Kevin moved towards him, but Kurt waved him away. "I'm fine. I'm fine, just clumsy." He smiled at both men, and disappeared into his dressing room.

He leant his forehead against the closed dressing room door, eyes closed, pulse pounding in his ears. Josh! Kevin moved like Josh, and Kurt felt bereft all over again. Josh!

* * *

Two weeks later, as Kurt left the theatre, he found Kevin waiting for him by the stage door. He smiled as the other man fell into step beside him. "Going my way?"

Kevin laughed. "Yeah." He slid a sideways glance at Kurt. "I wanted to talk to you."

Kurt waited, but Kevin just kept walking, apparently finding communion with his shoes. Kurt stopped, and Kevin turned to face him. "You've been avoiding me?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah, sorry, it's not anything you did. It's just that you remind me of someone."

"Must have been a real dick."

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "No, he was great, actually."

Kevin stared somewhere over Kurt's shoulder, eyes focused inward, obviously working on some internal battle. Kurt had just started to become concerned when Kevin met his eyes. "You're talking about Josh, right?"

Kurt stepped back, his face going impossibly pale. "How do you know about Josh?"

The red head ignored Kurt's question. "You know Josh was good with electronics?"

Kurt had no idea how Kevin knew that. "Yeah?"

"Josh zapped himself into another man's body via the electric current in a defibrillator." Josh waited but Kurt didn't react. He seemed frozen. "Kurt?"

Kurt blinked. "What are you saying?"

"A man died at the brownstone. The paramedics tried to revive him. Josh attached himself to the electric current in the defibrillator, and entered the body." Kevin held Kurt's eyes in a death grip. "When that body recovered, the original owner was dead, and Josh had taken his place." Josh raised his hand to touch Kurt's face, but Kurt knocked his hand away. "Kurt it's me. I took Kevin Lichtner's body."

Kurt's eyes shot shards of fury, his body tense with outrage. "You're a fucking liar!"

"I'm not lying." Josh raised his hands, towards Kurt, palm up. Kurt thought fainting was something that only happened in Regency romances, but the world was spinning around him. He snapped his eyes shut to keep from falling off the earth. "Kurt?"

Kurt took a shaky breath, and forced his eyes open. Kevin smiled; his hands still held out towards Kurt in the pseudo hug that he and Josh had created.

"I was a chorus boy in Cole Porter's Silk Stockings in '55. I fell off a stage, and died in '57. I haunted my friend David's house for almost 50 years. I listen to 99.9 Virgin Radio. I asked you to buy me a Kindle. I teased you about fucking that kid Cole. I'm jealous of your friend Puck. I think your dad is amazing. And I love you."

Kurt didn't notice the tears flowing down his face as he moved his hands into position over Josh's. "Josh?"

Josh nodded. "Please tell me you don't mind the red hair."

Kurt laughed, and wiped his eyes. He stared at Josh/Kevin, dazed and afraid to believe. He put his hand out and touched the former apparition's arm. They both looked down. No flickering. Kurt reached out again, this time gripping Kevin's shoulder tightly. It was all there, just the way it was supposed to be, cloth, muscle, bone, warmth. Kurt tore his eyes away from the miracle of Josh's shoulder, to find Josh watching him, blinking away his own waterworks.

Kurt pulled Josh into his body, molding them together from shoulder to thigh. They wrapped their arms around each other, hands on hips and ass. Kurt nuzzled into Josh's neck, inhaling his scent, and nipping at his skin. He dragged his lips along Josh's jaw, across his face. As he brought their mouths together, he whispered, "I don't mind the red hair."

THE END


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